


Little Yellow Flowers

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Blood, Centaur, F/M, Fire, Forest Sprite, Grief, Oral Sex, Spring Sprite AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:32:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: The way you’re shaped changes the way you perceive the world.





	Little Yellow Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @HerbertBest's new AU... thing.
> 
> Thank you to Angel, for editing this!

The way you’re shaped changes the way you perceive the world.

Dan knew this all too well - when he had gills, he could taste the currents in the water. When he had wings, he could see the different qualities of shade.

And when he had four legs… when he had four legs, he was afraid of fire.  
* * *  
He ran in a panic.

It was a controlled panic, at the very least - enough of his main intelligence was still there, buried under the blind, bladder shrinking terror that was the smoke still clinging to him.

He wasn’t looking where he was going - he had a fawn held protectively in his arms, and he was jumping over logs, he was skidding through clearings, he was going and going, the baby in his arms shivering, and then he was crashing into something spiky and small and screaming, and he held on tighter to the fawn, protecting it from the tearing thorns.

Dan’s long legs tangled with each other, the way no stag ever would, and he landed flat on his back, all four legs bicycling in the air.

“Watch where you’re going,” snapped a high pitched, burbling voice. “Or is that another stupid human?”

There were thorns advancing towards him, and Dan had to catch his breath, still holding the flailing fawn.

“Oh,” said the figure, and Dan’s head was finally starting to clear, as water was dumped on his head, a small cloud dispersing before he had a chance to really think about it.

He stood up, carefully, and he set the baby down.

The fawn’s mother was just out of sight, and she picked her way delicately towards the two of them, ignoring the two immortals, ignoring the unreality of the scene.

The fawn followed after her, on wobbly legs.  
* * *  
Dan was bleeding, and there were thorns in his skin, from all the places that Holly had pricked him, when he crashed into her.

“Is the fire one of yours?” Dan pushed his wet hair out of his face.

“No,” said Holly, and she was glaring. “I sent a storm to put it out, but it’s still doing its damage. We weren’t due for a fire for another three months.”  
“Can’t you just… you know, stop it?” Dan clicked his fingers, and he tried to pull a thorn out of his flank.

It wouldn’t budge.

“Um,” said Dan. “Holly?”

“What is it now?”

“Could you maybe take these things out of me?”

“It’s what you deserve,” Holly snapped.

Dan stepped towards her delicately, grateful for his stag’s legs and how careful they were.

“Holly? I’m sorry.” Dan’s long ears - the ones he had at the moment, at least - flattened, and he moved closer, reaching out a cautious hand towards her.

She didn’t back away, but her thorns bit into his palm.

She was a living thing, and she was in pain.

All of his instincts were crying out, and he opened his arms to her, and let her fall into them.

Her thorns bit him, like so many hungry mouths, like knives, and it hurt, oh but it hurt, but she was crying into the thin fur of his chest, her tears like cinders.

That sent another spiral of panic through him, as little plumes of smoke went up towards his nose, little bits of his fur smoldering, but the need to take care of something in pain - and oh, was she in pain - overrode everything else.

She turned his face up towards him, and she kissed him, her sharp teeth tearing into his lips, her sharp thorns digging into the skin of his chest, into his flanks.

He laid her out on her back, carefully, and he kissed down her belly with his bloody, thorn pricked lips.

She moaned when he reached the juncture of her thighs, and she sobbed, more little embers trickling out of the sides of her eyes as he licked her and licked her.

She tasted like lightning, and like white water, and she tasted like rot, and like growing things.

She shuddered and sobbed against him, as he licked and licked, until a gush of fluid hit him, and it was so cold that it steamed when it hit his warm skin.

The thorns on her body blossomed into so many little yellow flowers, sprouting around her, and the thorns left his skin,

She shoved him onto his back, and that was… that was vulnerable, because all four of his legs were akimbo, and she ground the wetness between her legs against whatever he happened to have between his legs.

She slid onto the thing that emerged, and the heat of her surrounded him, hot enough that he began to sweat, hot enough that he could see the bits of steam, because he was colder, and he was… the tension inside of him was growing, with every rock of her hips, and the flowers on her skin were dying, the flowers on his own skin were dying, and then he erupted, in a burst of heat, and it was a bit of life, going into her bit of life, and it would die, or it would live, but it didn’t matter, because she was around him, and then she was against him.

Her face was in his chest, as he slipped out of her, and he felt the trickle of his own fluids against the thin fur of his belly as she sobbed, little plumes of smoke rising up to the sky.

“I hate them,” she said.

“They’re as alive as we are,” Dan said. “As alive as the birds and the moss and the mushrooms.”

“They’re not,” Holly snapped, but she didn’t move, nuzzling closer into his warmth, into his scent. “They’re a poison. A rot. We need to get rid of them.” The velvet of her antlers was soft against his cheek, but the bone underneath was strong, enough to stab or kill.

He loved her, like he loved all the things that lived, and maybe a little more.

But he wasn’t going to think about that yet.

“This is their home too.” He stroked her hair back, with his bleeding hands, and she sobbed into his chest.

* * *  
In the clearing, the smoke was cleared, and in the ashes, seeds began to take root.

Everything - even fire - brings on change.


End file.
